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blindandlost) wrote in
whatsinthehatch2013-12-05 02:40 pm
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The Crash Site
It doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter how you were travelling. All that matters is the Island, and the Island wants you. All are drawn to the same stretch of shoreline; your plane suddenly loses power and drops from the sky to crash into the sand. Your boat runs aground. Your helicopter plows a deep furrow until the blades tangle and catch in the thick growth of the jungle.
However it happened, now you're here. You belong to the Island. There might be something salvageable in the debris, but no matter what you find, no matter who is with you, one thing is certain:
You are lost.
However it happened, now you're here. You belong to the Island. There might be something salvageable in the debris, but no matter what you find, no matter who is with you, one thing is certain:
You are lost.
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Though there was the usual whirrrs and clicks and deep hum of her mechanical form, Rabbit's steps in the sand were not nearly as usually clunky and loud to give away her position, so the female automaton's approach may have been something of a surprise until she finally spoke, stepping up beside the stranger, peering sideways at her.]
Hey, ya d-d-doin' okay, lady? Ya look a l-little roughed up. Need a b-band-aid or somethin'?
[Despite the fact they were complete strangers who clearly couldn't have known about one another's existence until this point, there was some geuiune concern burning in those glowing optics, the copper 'bot's mouth twitching downwards as she stared.] Maybe s-some water?
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... what is that?
The form was human enough on a whole-- the right number of limbs and all-- and yet...
But she doesn't make for her weapon.
A band-aid? ... she seems to snap out of it and glances down at herself. Nearly laughing, she wipes her eyes.]
I do suppose I must be quite the sight. Though I'm uncertain of how much good a band-aid could do for me, or, indeed, any amount of medical attention at all. I seem to have lost something far more valuable than my health.
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Ya don’t look so bad! Walter knows I ain’t quite as p-p-put together as I’d like t’ be—[mismatched optics flicker down to her white gloves and the blood that now stained them. Rabbit’s mouth curls downwards at the sight.] —But I’d s-s-say we look pretty g-good for cute ladies stranded on a deserted island!
…Oh? [Her head clicks back to the woman, regarding her with a unreadable expression, optics glowing softly.] Ya l-lost somethin’ important? Yer WiFi password?
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nah that's just how Genie is honey, sorryShe smiles sadly up at Rabbit.]
My companions.
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Gee. That's r-real sad. [a pause, still awkward] Didja....Didja already b-b-bury 'em? Do ya need any help?
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[The sad truth, of course, but Rabbit had seen enough dead bodies in the past, bodies who hadn't had any family or friends around to claim them, who had still needed to be buried.]
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[Genie stands, dusting the sand off of her clothing, careful to avoid the cuts and bruises she gained during the crash.]
... isn't it funny, how arbitrarily humans as a species assign sentimentality to actions? Burying a body... a strange action that only we have imbued with such honor.
[A humorless laugh of sorts, and she turns her gaze to look to the wreckage.]
Well, not all of us, I suppose. Did you know that there are cultures in which bodies are left out for the birds and other animals to feed on?
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As Genie stands, the copper automaton quickly follows with the usual noises of her mechanical form, but the line of her lips presses together firmly, blue and green gaze following after the woman intently. Something is prickling at her senses, but the 'bot can't quite distinguish what.]
It ain't s-s-strange. It's j-just th' r-right-t-t thing t' do! Ya can't l-leave yer loved ones out just l-layin' 'round. It's disrespectful. [And also, clearly unsanitary.]
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